Elf on a Shelf
by Desmothenes87
Summary: Peter is less than enthused with this new Christmas tradition. But then so is everyone else as well.
1. You Better Watch Out

I realise I haven't updated any of my stories in forever, for which I am sorry. It's been a crazy year and writing has been difficult. I haven't even seen this last season of White Collar, or read any recent fiction, although that is because I'm sort of worried what will happen, that I'll have to deal with in my stories.

But this idea popped into my head for a Christmas short, so I decided to get it written. It's loosly based on actual events relayed to me by friend, but I decided to embellish it in true White Collar fashion. Originally I planned on making this a one shot, but looks like it will be 2 - 3 chapters. Hope all of you enjoy.

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><p><strong>You Better Watch Out<strong>

Peter's work was interrupted by box being dropped unceremoniously onto his desk with a "June says to tell you Merry Christmas and give you this."

The box caused Peter to start in surprise knocking his elbow against the penholder to his left and causing the entire contents to scatter across his desk and onto the floor.

"Neal," the agent yelped, shoving away from his desk and just managing to avoid hitting his coffee cup, still full to the brim with the offices freshly made sludge.

Neal was the picture of innocence. "What?" He held his hands up in surrender. "I'm just the messenger. June was very adamant I give this to you right away since there are still three weeks until Christmas."

"June has impeccable manners, she would never tell you to drop something in the middle of my work." Peter countered as he gathered.

Neal just shrugged carelessly and dropped into the seat across from Peter's. "Semantics."

Peter shook his head, brow furrowing in irritation. "That comeback doesn't even make sense Neal."

Choosing to ignore Peter's comment Neal pointed at the box, which was a little larger than a shoebox and emblazoned with red letters. "Aren't you going to see what June got you?"

Peter stared down at the box for a moment and frowned. Although June was known for her generosity, both with Neal, the office, and the Burke family this was not what he would have expected.

"Elf on a Shelf," he read the letters carefully, eyeing a picture of a little elf in a red costume sitting on what looked like a bedroom shelf. "And?" he asked looking perplexed. "June is giving me this why?"

"It's for Ender," Neal clarified. "June got them for all of her grandkids this year so she got one for him as well."

Gingerly, as if the box might explode, Peter picked it up and then shook it. "Why is she giving Ender an elf?"

Neal looked affronted. "This is not just any elf Peter. This elf is special. He sits on the shelf, and watches kids, and then reports back to Santa on their behaviour."

"Seriously," Peter stared at the box then opened the flip lid to see there was indeed a little felt elf, packed behind plastic, with big blue eyes and an eerie smile.

"I've been doing some research and apparently there is entire Christmas lore built entirely around Mr. Elf." Neal said nodding enthusiastically. "Not only does the elf report back to Santa nightly, but he also bakes cookies and cakes, and other treats for the kids as well as deliver presents early if kids are exceptionally good."

"And by the elf you mean me and El," Peter clarified. He poked at the plastic a bit right around the Elf's rosy cheek. The Elf just grinned back at him, with his frozen smile.

"Where's your Christmas Spirit?" Neal pouted.

"It fell into my trash bin, with all the pens you caused me to knock over."

Neal clearly didn't seem to care that Peter was less than enthused. "I thought you could call him Legolas," he quickly added, as he pointed a finger in the Elf's general direction.

"Are you serious?" Peter scowled.

"What?" Neal shrugged. "He needs a name. You can't just call him Elf." The look on his face said Peter clearly didn't understand these details. "Besides, you need to name him for when you register him online."

Peter who was just taking a sip of his coffee, managed not to spit it back out across the room. "Excuse me…but register the elf. Why? In case he gets lost and can't find his way back to our house from the North Pole."

Neal gave Peter a patronizing look. "When you register him you get an adoption certificate and personalized letter from Santa." At Peter's face he added. "I've been researching this online. Apparently over 30,000 elves are named Buddy, although Oodle is also a big hit with 220 Elves having that name. But I still think Legolas works well."

"You're seriously going with Lord of the Rings?" Peter questioned.

"What? Legolas is badass with his bow and double swords. And the new movie was awesome."

Peter stared at him. "You mean the movie that's not scheduled to be released until December 17th."

Neal didn't look even remotely abashed, "Well I met this really cute production assistant…"

Peter has learned a long time ago Neal could out argue anyone, and the best way to win a conversation with Neal was to cut him off at the pass, so he interrupted before Neal admitted to some sort of felony he would be left dealing with. "It's a nice idea so thank June for me, but Ender doesn't even believe in Santa Claus. He's certainly not going to believe some plastic elf flies to the North Pole every night to send Santa secret reports.

At that Neal suddenly brightened. "Ah, but this elf is a 21st century elf. He has his own digital camera to record all that he witnesses and the footage is sent back to Santa via satellite."

For a moment Peter stared down at the elf, then back up at Neal. "You had Mozzie install a camera, didn't you?"

"This way, you'll be able to monitor everything that happens at home, even while you're away." Neal had a gleam in his eye, one like he usually got right before he was planning a job.

Peter, sensing an ulterior motive, closed the lid and pushed the box away to the edge of the desk. "And as I said before, Ender doesn't believe in Santa, no matter how technological advanced his help is."

Neal pushed his chair away, looking stung. "I am not taking it back to June. If you want to return it, you can give it to her, and be the one to hurt her feelings."

"Fine," Peter relented. "But I get the transmitter. You are not using this to spy on us, when I won't let you come over."

With a very satisfied grin Neal hopped to his feet and turned to go. "It's in the box," he called over his shoulder as he headed back down the stairs and to his desk.

Peter stared at the box then reached for it again. He opened the lid and stared at the elf. It reminded him of the creepy doll El's parents had given her foor her birthday, although that thing had looked utterly depressed while this thing has a sickly sweet smile plastered on its face.

Closing the lid Peter shoved the thing under his desk and returned to his work.


	2. You Better Not Cry

**A/N**: Thank you to all the wonderful reviewers of Chapter 1, and for the support for this verse of White Collar. Writing O/C's are difficult, so I'm grateful Ender has been so well received. Sorry this chapter has taken so long. This one was a bit difficult to write, but the next one is almost done and should be posted in a day or two.

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><p><strong>You Better Not Cry<strong>

Almost an hour after Peter's initial visit from Neal the agent looked up to see what had become a predictable scene, and part of a five act play that unfolded several times a week.

The story always began with Neal being assigned some sort of case by Peter, or one of the other agents at Peter's behest.

Follow this with Neal's predictable grumbling and complaining about how the case was a waste of his skills.

Next, Peter would reiterate to Neal that he was not allowed to choose the cases they worked and all their cases could not be rescuing damsels in distress or recovering million dollar works of stolen art.

Some time later in that day, or the next, a new probie would come into Peter's office with information about the case, he had discovered, after hours of phone calls and combing through credit card reports, witness notes, and financial records for information.

The story always concluding with Peter yelling at Neal for tricking someone else into doing the work he was assigned, coupled with Neal providing puppy dog eyes and ample excuses on how he was only putting someone's else's interests above his own, by giving them the opportunity get practically experience solving cases.

Rare though it was, Peter had caught Neal right between steps four and five with their newest probie fresh out of Quantico, standing next to Neal's desk an expression of rapt attention on his face.

Apparently several of their adventures were now part of the fraud unit taught at Quantico, because new agents usually arrived wide eyes and a bit awed about meeting one of them for the first time.

Neal, seizing every opportunity to run a con, whether illegal, or just slightly amoral, had no problem using this celebrity status to his advantage.

And Peter had no problem calling him on his bull.

Never wanting to scare the new agents too much their first month on the job, Peter opted to avoid yelling across the bullpen and instead leaned on the rail and keeping his eyes fixed on Neal's position till he could make eye contact.

Neal was clearly in his element, hands gesticulating, most likely in the middle of reliving one of their cases, the probie with wide eyes atwhat had to be embellished tales of heroics.

Not that their real stories weren't heroic, but this was Neal. He lived for embellishment.

A few moments later and Neal glanced up, looking about - as he was reliving a particularly gleeful moment, when he glanced over in Peter's direction.

Peter did his best disapproving father glare, which surprisingly had much more affect than his disapproving agent glare.

Neal covered his startle reaction pretty quickly, by yanking the file folder out of the probie's hands and turning back to his computer with a quick word of dismissal. The probie stood there with a confused look on his face, for a moment, before tuning and catching Peter's gaze who gave a raised eyebrow, causing the young man to scurry back over to his own desk.

Neal was giving his best impression of the studious employee, back rigid as he sat in front of his computer hands on the keyboard, although Peter noted Neal carefully turned his computer screen so Peter couldn't see what was on it from his current angle.

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><p>Ten minutes later Neal startled as Peter dropped something down on his desk.<p>

"Uh, Peter…what is that?" Neal shoved away from his desk with big eyes and a horrified expression.

Peter smirked. "What Neal? I thought you were a fan of Legolas here." He waved the little red elf back and forth in front of Neal's face before setting him down on Neal's pen-holder, arranging him so he was both staring at Neal and what Neal was doing at the same time.

"For Ender yes. But I am not a child Peter," Neal folded his arms across his chest.

"And yet you use every opportunity to act like one – Peter Pan," came the reply. "So here's the deal." Peter kept eye contact, knowing Neal would do the same. "Legolas is going to monitor your behaviour. See which list you fall on."

He carefully adjusted the elf's head so Neal was glued with that overly cheery smile. "And then Santa can decide whether to get you any presents this year."

With that the agent turned on his heel and walked away leaving Neal staring at the elf with a vague look of horror on his face.

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><p>Watching Neal, over the rest of the day, was rather entertaining. Not that Peter got any work done. But it was hard to make Neal uncomfortable. Pretty impossible really, and any chance to watch him squirm was okay in Peter's book.<p>

"You're enjoying this too much boss," Diana told him as she handed him a warrant request to sign, glancing back over her shoulder at Neal who was slowly and carefully pushing the cup with the elf on it, so it wasn't facing his direction any more.

"He started it when he dropped that damn thing on my desk this morning," Peter wasn't the least bit sympathetic. "Do you really think Ender is going to believe some magical elf flies back to the North Pole to report on his behaviour to Santa every night?"

"So leave him there to annoy Neal and the rest of the office," she laughed. The conman had managed to move the elf so he was facing towards Agent Grant's desk, and the agent was now watching the thing out of the corner of his eye, his expression slightly terrified.

Peter folded his arms grumbling, "I can't. That thing was a gift from June so I can't exactly not give it too him."

Diana shrugged carelessly, "Just a few days boss. Caffrey never squirms."

"As much as torturing Neal, is something I rarely get the chance to enjoy, no one in this office will get any work done with that thing around. Have you seen it up close?" Peter gave a visible shudder. " It's smiling just like the psychopath does in those horror films right before he slits your throat."

As if to support Peter's statement Agent Grant shouted from across the room, "Caffrey turn that thing around right now. It's creeping me out."

Neal glanced up in Peter's direction, then sighed and turned the cup back around, his expression glum.


	3. You Better Not Pout

**A/N:** And Ender meets his elf. Yes this is sure to be loads of fun for everyone involved. Oh, and I know nothing about physics or science so I copied this little spiel off the internet from people much smarter than I. If you enjoy the story feel free to leave a review. I don't believe in holding stories hostage for reviews, but it lets me know if people liked what you read. Thanks in advance, and a huge Thank You to my regular reviewers. You make writing so enjoyable.

**You Better Not Pout**

Ender reacted to June's gift with the level of enthusiasm Peter expected. Which meant none.

"Elf on a Shelf," he read in his lisping little accent. "What's it for?"

"He's from the North Pole. He watches your behaviour and flies back to Santa every night to report on whether you've been naughty or nice," Peter repeated what Neal had told him, trying to sound more enthusiastic than he felt.

Ender stared at the elf then back at Peter. "If he's from Santa, why does he come in a box with a Barnes and Noble price tag on the back. And Santa charges $39.99 for him?"

"How do you think Santa gets the money to make all his toys each year?" Peter snapped, a little harsher than he meant to. He would blame Neal for already setting him on edge.

Scrunching his face, Ender stared at the toy then handed it back to Peter. "Santa Claus doesn't exist. It's a scientific impossibility. Even if he doesn't visit Muslim, Hindu, Jewish or Buddhist children he'd still have to deliver presents to around 108 million homes in only 31 hours. That's about 968 visits per second..."

Peter pressed a finger over Ender's lips causing the kid to go silent, and interrupting what was sure to be a rather lengthy and boring monologue. "Please tell me you have not gone around school repeating this spiel to your classmates?"

Ender gave a distinct scowl, one that said he was unhappy with the way the world worked. "Mrs. Stanton forbid any discussions about Santa Clause to…" he gave finger quotes, "…ensure the tranquil learning environment of the classroom."

"Your teacher sounds very smart," Peter told him causing Ender to pucker his lips in anger.

"It's not like we're discussing the existence of extra-terrestrials or anything, where the debate could go either way. I mean…I am offering scientific proof Santa Claus can't be real. It's physics. If his sleigh were to actually fly, he'd be crushed by 4,314,015 pounds of force after his reindeer were vaporized from the air resistance created by travelling at 560 miles per second." Ender nodded matter-o-factly, but Peter was too used to Ender quoting some random fact of knowledge to really be impressed.

He was more shocked by the first part of Ender's statement.

"So you don't believe in Santa Claus, but you believe in aliens?" Peter stared at him.

Ender nodded, "I'm Catholic, I also believe in God. And can we go to Christmas Eve mass this year?"

"Why? Are there going to be aliens there?" Peter asked him.

Ender gave him a distinct glare, which said he knew he was being made fun of. "I'm just telling you alien's are a different. You can't absolutely prove they don't exist, so that means they could. And God exists because miracles are real. Santa is a different story. No one can park a sleigh and deliver presents in 1/600 thou…"

"All right, I get it," Peter held up his hands. "Santa Claus is not real. Glad we've figured that one out."

They were both saved from further argument by El walking in with an armful of business papers she had been sorting upstairs.

"What's that hon?" She asked, only half watching them as she continued to rifle through her notes.

"Ender got an early present from June," Peter held up the box for El to see.

That statement was met with a _humph_, and pouting from Ender. "Some present, Daddy wants me to believe that piece of plastic flies to the North Pole every night to tell Santa if I'm good."

"So, you do believe in Santa," Peter pointed out, the flaw in Ender's last statement.

Giving an indignant huff, Ender all but shouted, "I do not, I'm simply telling mummy how mental you're being by suggesting I'd believe in something that stupid."

At the screaming El finally put down her papers and looked up. "Do not yell Ender, you know I won't listen to anything you say when your volume goes above 60 decibels. And Santa brought you Cafall last year," she pointed out, taking the Elf in her hand.

Ender stamped his foot. "He did not, you bought me Cafall. Santa doesn't deliver live animals because they'd freeze to death during the journey."

Raising an eyebrow, Peter commented, "This is the Santa you don't believe in."

By the puffing of his chest and the look on Ender's face they were 30 seconds away from a major meltdown.

Fortunately El was pretty good at heading off any tears before Ender got himself completely worked up. She placed a hand on Ender's head running fingers soothingly through his hair.

"Well since Santa doesn't exist it won't make a difference if we put him on the shelf or not, and have him watch your behaviour. Or better yet, we could do a science, experiment. See if him watching how you act affects what you get for Christmas this year compared to last year?"

Ender whipped wide eyes to her face.

"I mean, if Santa isn't real, what you do won't matter, will it? But if he is…" she let her voice trail off expectantly, giving Ender a moment to think about what she was saying.

Peter watched as Ender looked at the elf with big eyes, lips pursed, clearly thinking over her last statement. It was obvious he was struggling with the dilemma of the science he could do in his head, and the chance, however slight it might be that the elf really could affect what presents he received by reporting on his behaviour.

El waited another moment before carefully picking Ender up balancing him on her hip, and walking over to place the elf on the living room bookshelf, so he could have a view of the whole of the room.

"There, now he can see everything that happens." El smiled at Ender, and kissed him on the temple. "And you love science sweetie, so this is the perfect experiment for this time of year."

Ender gave the elf one last wide eyed stare, then stuck his thumb in his mouth, and rested his head on El's shoulder, a move that clearly said he was agitated but unable to do a thing about it.

El walked towards that kitchen, winking at Peter as she passed him, Ender still in her arms.

As they entered the kitchen Peter heard Ender ask from around his thumb, "If I'm good do you think Santa will bring me a four-wheeler for Christmas, if I ask him?"

He could also hear El's reply. "I don't know, four wheeler's are kind of big and it might not fit on his sleigh. I'd hate for those reindeer to be vaporized from pulling too much weight."

To which Ender whispered, "But maybe he uses magic to deliver his presents. Magic is real, isn't it? So I could maybe possibly get a four-wheeler if I'm extra, specially, really good?"


	4. I'm Telling You Why

**A/N**: Sorry the update is after Christmas, but things have been busy. I think only two more chapters after this one. I originally envisioned story this as a one shot, but it grew so I had to expand my plot/character development a bit since . Not entirely happy with it, but thought I'd post it anyway. This is just Ender, Peter and El, but Neal will be in the next one.

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><p><strong> I'm Telling You Why<strong>

"He is not going to fall for this," Peter told El, later on that night, a couple hours after they had tucked Ender into bed.

In honour of the elf, El decided to make Christmas cookies for Ender to find in the morning that "Legolas" had supposedly baked. Peter thought the plan was completely ridiculous, but knew he was going to be on the losing end of that argument.

Ender may have gotten into the idea of Santa Claus if it meant he got a four-wheeler out of the plan, but Peter didn't think the kid would believe the elf made him cookies. Ender didn't even like cookies. So much for an all-knowing elf.

"Oh where is your Christmas spirit Peter?" El asked, as she cracked an egg on the side of the bowl and let the contents fall, before dropping the shell into the bin. "This is going to be fun."

"And quite possibly traumatizing." Peter told her. "For all of us."

"All kids should believe in Santa Claus. It's part of the magic of Christmas," she responded, carefully mixing the eggs, sugar and butter together.

Peter placed his hands on his hips and frowned. "And if he decides to believe in Santa Claus you do realise we're eventually going to have to tell him Santa doesn't really exist." He pointed out. "Because he doesn't. We are clear on that, right?"

And he could already guess without asking which one of them would get that oh so pleasant task. As much as he loved June this was one time he was extremely frustrated by her generosity.

"I never told him Santa existed." El countered, now measuring flour and giving Peter a 'don't you dare ruin this look.' "I offered him a science experiment."

That thought was not at all comforting. "Which you seem to be tampering with the results of. He's good he gets his present, ergo Santa Claus exists."

"And how is that different from what countless other parents tell their children this time of year." El asked, stirring the dough more, without looking up.

Peter really didn't have anything to say to that. "An now if he's good we have to buy him a four-wheeler." Peter told her, already envisioning the chaos that would stem from such a gift. "You really want him driving one of those things around the neighbourhood?"

El gave him the look that said she thought he was being ridiculous. Or at least that he wasn't seeing the full picture. "Peter they make toy four wheelers. The ones that run off a battery and only go about five or six miles per hour."

She added more flour and then covered the dough and stuck it in the fridge to let it chill for an hour. "You can run at least that fast so it's not like he's going to be able to drive off on the thing and run someone over. Besides," she shrugged carelessly. "I already reserved one a couple weeks ago. All we have to do it is go pick it up."

Peter's jaw dropped and he gave her an incredulous look. "You did what?" He demanded.

El raised her eyebrows. "And this works out perfectly because now he can feel like he earned it with his good behaviour."

The agent opened his mouth to protest some more but El cut him off. "If you want to complain I'll let you do _all_ the Christmas shopping this year by yourself, and that includes the presents for my parents."

That sobered Peter up pretty quickly. There was no way he was going to be responsible for choosing a present for Dr. Mitchell. Especially when the man would be able to guess it wasn't his perfect daughter who had chosen it.

"I just don't want to upset him." He told her, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. Dealing with Ender was always a challenge.

In some ways the kid was very mature. Well, not mature, but smart and extremely talented at whatever he tried. And when in the right mood he could have a very stimulating academic conversation with most adults.

But in other ways Ender was very young for his age. Sucking his thumb when he became upset, and displaying an extreme clinginess and temper one normally only saw in much younger children.

Peter knew the contradictory behaviour stemmed from the abuse Ender had suffered before he was adopted, and as such wasn't really bothered by it. But since their relationship with Ender was still tenuous he didn't want to do anything that might cause Ender to lose faith in them as parents.

El paused for a moment then grasped both Peter's hands in her smaller ones and pecked him on the lips. "Hon, it will be fine," she soothed. "He's not going to be upset that Santa Claus isn't real, he's only going to upset if he's good and doesn't get a present."

Peter wasn't so sure about that one, but El was raised by a shrink so in cases like this he tried to defer to her judgement.

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><p>The next morning found Peter and El having breakfast at the kitchen table when Ender ran in skidding across the floor in his socked feet. He managed to stop himself using the edge of the table, barely missing knocking over the milk pitcher with his elbow.<p>

"Morning munchkin," Peter said as he sipped his coffee.

"I was good." Ender blurted out with a matter-o-fact tone, by way of greeting. Skating around on the floor he pulled himself along using the different chairs before dropping down into his seat.

"I'm sorry," Peter asked from over the rim of his mug.

"I was good," Ender repeated. "Did you tell him I was good last night?"

Peter just stared at him. "Who?"

"Santa's elf." Ender replied. He was sitting on the shelf in the living room so he couldn't see me. I want him to know I was good so I can get my four wheeler."

Peter shot El a glare, which she simply ignored.

"Ender it doesn't just count for one night. He reports back to Santa every night up until Christmas." El told him. "But I'm sure he told Santa how good you were last night." She quickly added and Ender's incredulous expression.

"In fact, I think he made you something. Did you see the counter?"

Ender shook his head, but eyes wide, jumped out of his chair and ran across the room.

Peter watched as he stopped in front of the counter, taking in the scene.

El had moved "Legolas" to sit, propped up with the toaster, next to a plate of iced Christmas cookies. With him was a small blackboard written in script the words, "_An early Christmas treat from me to you_."

Ender's face pinched a moment, before he shuffled back over to the table looking dejected.

"You didn't tell him I don't like cookies?" He asked rather morose.

"There for you to take to your teacher, to do sometihng nice for her." El told him.

Ender looked over at the plate then back at El suspiciously. "Why? She doesn't do nice things for me. She just tells me what to do, and sometimes she yells."

Okay, so Peter wasn't going to argue with that one.

"Ender it's nice to do kind things for other people, even if they haven't done something kind first." El carefully consoled. She was the one who usually took upon herself to talk Ender through whatever frustrating trauma occurred by Ender discovering the world didn't work the way he thought it should.

The kid huffed out a breath. "Am I supposed to tell her our elf from Santa made them? Because I don't think she believes in Santa Claus."

Peter bit back a chuckle.

"Just tell her you wanted to do something nice for her." El told him.

Ender seemed to think this over. "Okaaaay…" he drew out the word. "But I don't think it will go over very well." The kid stood on his chair so he could reach for the box of Cheerio's and then stood there carefully studying the label for the longest time.

El looked puzzled. "Ender it's okay to do nice things for you teacher. Why wouldn't she approve?"

Ender just gave a careful shrug and kept reading the label.

Peter waited another moment, then yanked the box out of the kid's hands to Ender's frustrated, "Hey I was still reading that."

"Stop stalling and answer your mother's question." He commanded, opening the box and pouring some cereal into the kid's bowl. Most parents wouldn't read too much into that statement, but he could never be sure where Ender (or Neal) was consered.

"I was checking to make sure it doesn't contain nuts." Ender pursed his lips. "I'd hate to die in the middle of breakfast from anaphylactic shock. Because a recent news article said 911 has an almost ten minute response time here in the city."

"You have an Epipen," Peter shook his head and added milk. "Eat, or we're going to be late."

Peter was sure this was still a stall tactic, because Ender very slowly put his spoon in the bowl, took out some cereal and put it in his mouth. The exaggerated chewing could have been from a film set to slow motion.

Another moment and he swallowed, then waited like he was expected the guillotine to drop and cut off his head.

Peter gave him enough time for a dramatic pause, then, "See your not dead, now why would your teacher be upset if you if you brought her cookies?"

"Do the cookies contain nuts?" Ender asked, turning to look at the plate still sitting on the counter. "Because if they do I think I might like to try one now."

"Sweetie, there are no nuts in this house," El told him as she started gathering up hers and Peter's dishes and take them to the sink. "Answer the question."

"I don't think she'll trust me to something nice for her. She might think I'm trying to trick her." Ender admitted, and then stuffed two spoonfuls of cereal in his mouth before he had to say anything else.

"And why is that?" El asked. Carefully rinsing the plates and putting them in the dishwasher.

"Wellllll…Neal andMozzie and I…" Ender began and Peter cut him off before he no longer had the excuse of plausible deniability. "I don't want to know, I only want you to take her the cookies and give her your best apology."

Ender gave him the biggest saddest eyes and hung his head. "If I apologise do you think I'll still be good enough to get my four-wheeler?" He sounded utterly depressed. "Because this happened weeks ago, and I didn't know I was supposed to be good till yesterday."


End file.
